


Three Dark Mages Walk into a Bar

by Kyriptid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almost Kiss, Angst, Boys In Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, No Spoilers, One Shot, Sad Sylvain Jose Gautier, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, Sylvain Jose Gautier Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23489728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriptid/pseuds/Kyriptid
Summary: Sylvain gets caught with his pants down. What's new? Except this time it actually isn't literally.OrSylvain gets separated from his battalion, horse and allies and has to fight for his life without backup.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 140





	Three Dark Mages Walk into a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just gonna be a ficlet but apparently I am physically incapable of writing anything less than 1k words. 
> 
> Each day I stray further from my soul. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Sylvain struggled to quiet his labored breathing, a wetness creeping up into each gasp with increasing intensity. He had been separated from his battalion when a trio of Dark Mages knowing Dark Spikes happened upon him. He knew he couldn't dodge them forever, and that if he was caught with one while on his warhorse it would be over. So, he dismounted and booked it to the forest to try and put some distance between him and the immediate danger. He hadn't seen any of his allies around him at the time, since his last skirmish dragged him quite a ways from the front lines. 

Honestly, he was glad these guys were coming after him and not someone more prone to their magic like Dedue or Felix. He could remove his liability by forcing his horse to retreat, people like them simply couldn't take a spell to the chest and survive it easily. 

Sylvain clenched his jaws shut as the hushed whispers of footsteps approached his location. He could hear the fizzling of magic above the distant din of war a few miles out. He knew they wouldn't take long to locate him. 

But what was he supposed to do? He was horribly outnumbered and pretty outmatched. Sure, out of most of the Blue Lions, he was able to stomach magical blows pretty well, but that doesn't make it any less lethal. He could maybe survive one hit before succumbing to a second. If he's lucky. 

A particularly loud crunch of underbrush alerted the Dark Knight of his pursuer's position about twenty feet behind his small alcove. It was a crater in the dirt dug out below a tree, likely created by some forest animal seeking shelter from the weather. It was just big enough for Sylvain to squeeze into, but just compact enough for him to be unable to conceal his lance fully. He mentally cursed his damned crest for the millionth time and adjusted his grip on the tip to conceal more of the orange glow. 

The approaching footsteps stopped. His heart dropped to his stomach and a cold fear gripped onto his shoulders. He could barely see the glow of fire spells lighting up the bark of the tree a few paces in front of where he sat. 

They were _right above him_.

He silently drew in a breath through his mouth, eyes fixed on the crest of dirt and roots peeking over his head. He couldn't see them, but he could feel their magic as if it were his own. 

Why were they still standing there?? They had to know where he was by now-- they must be toying with him. 

He swallowed the useless pang of indignation that clambored its way up his spine, knowing full and well that feeling sorry for himself at a time like this would and will prove fatal. 

A crack of a branch above alerted them to their movements, and he steeled his limbs to prepare for an ambush. He had about a second before red engulfed his vision and the brush and leaves directly in front of him were ignited. 

He pushed forward anyways, leaping from his hiding spot and whipping around to fire a Bolgannone spell at his assailants. It managed to stifle one of them, but another of the three began unleashing a Luna spell directly above his head. He could feel the suction of the air around him pulling him towards it, drawing up loose leaves and twigs. In a frantic effort, he stabbed his lance's tail end into the ground to his side and used it to catapult himself to the right- just barely escaping the maws of what would have been certain doom. As he landed, he smelled more embers kicking up around him. 

They were setting the whole damn forest on fire!!

Terror gripped his nerves as he shot off several fire spells in their general direction, using the smoke that was clouding every square inch of space around them as a means to escape. 

As he sprinted westward, he vaguely made out the sounds of their pursuit a ways behind him. He had no time to think of a way to counterattack at this rate- the fire itself was a big enough threat to him. It was already heating his armor up quickly. He'd start cooking soon if he didn't find a way out. 

He saw a fire spell lurch over his head and slam into a grand oak about ten yards ahead of him, effectively lighting it ablaze within moments. This didn't give him much time to avoid it, but in a flash of clarity he once again used the butt of his lance to shove himself off the crackling bark of the tree to send him hurtling in a slightly altered direction. Just for good measure, he began summoning a Ragnarok rune, eyes peeled for a way to buy him enough time to aim it. He had made it out of the burning parts of the forest, but it wasn't any less sweltering. At least now he could breathe without sucking in gallons of smoke. 

Deciding he should just use the explosion itself to buy himself time, he launched the spell behind him and ducked as debris flung every which way from the massive impact. 

Bad idea. He just set this neck of the woods on fire now. 

Shit. 

He could hear his foes yelling above the crackling of embers and plant flesh, though now they seemed further away. He didn't have a moment to waste. 

He pressed onwards to try and put some distance between them. Anything to stall long enough for help to arrive. 

Sylvain scoffed as the thought came to him. Help? For him? This was divine punishment for all of the shit he has done in his life. He deserved worse than this. 

He finally slowed his pace after nearly ten minutes of running. Ever since he took up being a mounted class his cardio stamina had dwindled, and it was showing in the way the world tipped this way and that in his blurry vision. He stumbled to a halt against a mossy boulder, shoulders heaving as his lungs desperately drank in as much clean air as they could. Damn did he hate the heat. 

He blearily felt his armor up and down, checking for any signs of damage so far. Nothing but burnt clothes and likely seared skin. He could manage with that. 

As his mind began to clear and his thoughts picked up their pace he tried to piece together a plan for himself. It was obvious he was alone in this for better or worse, but he had friends to protect. He had to get back out there. His poor horse is probably mortified…

He shook off his less useful concerns and checked his lance. A little dirt here and there but otherwise perfectly functional. He was very grateful he hadn't used it much in this battle so far- he was gonna need everything it had to give him. He had people to return to. His friends to keep his promises with.

Felix would kill him if he died off on his own.

As a plan of action began to form together in his mind, he tested the strength of the branches of each surrounding tree. 

This had better work. 

  
  
  


The first mage carefully stepped up to a large rock sporting years worth of greenery, noticing how there was some soot smeared onto it, likely from their quarry. He carefully followed the minute trail around the trees in the area as his two allies scanned the area at his back. He wasn't sure which tree had been the last stop, as several had indications that they had been climbed. Bark scraped off by metal boots, ash clogged into crooks of branches. And yet when he looked up into each one, there wasn't a trace of the future Gautier-

Wait. He spied a spur hidden far up in the branches of this blooming birch. Without wasting a moment to allow his prey to jump him, he erupted a Dark Spikes spell into the air, effectively snagging the boot and all of the heavy armor that laid up with it. 

All of it fell to the ground with a sick thunk, and he triumphantly circled the tree to double check his work. 

Except there was no head peeking out from the red fur in that armor. 

Soon [orange overtook his field of vision](https://twitter.com/snowdnnesketch/status/1249594102120886274?s=19) as the tip of the Lance of Ruin protruded from his neck. He had barely registered hearing something move in the tree behind him just a moment earlier-

  
  


Sylvain yanked his lance out of the corpse of the first Dark Mage, blood trickling down his chest from the blow he just delivered. He was damn lucky his plot of misdirection worked. Very, very lucky. Now he just had to pull off a few more miracles. 

He knew his actions were not going to remain secret for long, so he turned on his bare heel and sprinted towards where he saw the second mage investigating some singed wood he had laid out. Since he no longer had any of his armor weighing him down, his movements were much more quiet and quick. In fact, the only clothes he had on now were his pants and smallclothes. In a fight with magic users, that was more than enough. 

He sidestepped a tree just as his foe took notice of his presence. He already had a Miasma spell brewing upon his arrival, but the sight of the nearly naked philanthropist startled him for a full second. That was enough of a window for Sylvain. 

He didn't waste a moment hurling his lance at the mage, striking him through the chest in one smooth throw. The other man fell backwards with the impact and his Miasma spell fizzled out of his hands. 

Sylvain stumbled, thrown off balance by the desperation and force he put into the throw. He was panting again, the drain of climbing trees and sprinting around at full speed for so long taking a massive toll on him. Maybe he should have taken training more seriously. 

He retrieved his lance from his opponent's carcass, sweat sliding down his shoulders from his damp hair. There wasn't time to contemplate things for long, as his brain registered the bone chilling pain of magic blasting into his back. 

It caused him to stagger forwards, a pained gasp weaseling its way through his parted teeth. He whipped his body around forcefully and used the motion to slash through the second spell that was coming his way. It was enough to disperse it, but now he stood face to face with his final assailant. He was hurt and exhausted- but he could do this.

Felix did one on ones all the time, even when gravely injured. Sylvain could pull it off right now too. Even if he was at a heavy disadvantage.

The mage took a few paces back as he began whipping up another spell. Sylvain knew if he rushed forward he wouldn't make it in time, so he began summoning a Sagittae spell up to counteract his foe's. It wasn't near as strong by a long shot, but it was his best option. 

The mage took a step back as he fired a Mire spell. Sylvain began advancing as he cast Sagittae to intercept it. He ducked under the wispy remains of the attack and forced his legs to carry him forward with as much speed as he could muster. He whirled his lance over his head to build up momentum- he didn't have the muscle strength to guarantee a raw jab would kill in one blow- and twirled on his heel to double down on his efforts. His lance- thank Sothis on high- made direct contact with the enemy's neck and sliced almost completely through it. The fountain spray of blood that erupted in the following two seconds would have brought him great relief if he wasn't currently suspended in the air a few inches. The mage had managed to cast a final Dark Spikes spell and pierce through his hip up into his waist. It had somehow woven between bones to get that far, and had lifted him off the ground with the force of it.

He didn't have the breath to scream- not like he had the energy for it either. Even amidst the haze of agony choking his mind he could realise he was slowly sliding further down on the barely materialised crag of dark magic. It was fizzling out, but it was lasting longer than he thought possible once the caster was dead. 

When it finally released its physical form, he drooped to the ground like a dead bird, collapsing onto his back and knocking his head into the cushion of plant rot below him. His side was bleeding profusely, each staggering heartbeat forcing more and more out of the blackened wound embedded so deeply into his side. 

He had damn nearly made it, too. 

His lance was still attached to his last foe, its aura having subsided due to the distance between it and its wielder. 

Sylvain grasped his hip weakly. The world was spinning around him so quickly it was making him sick. If his body had the energy he was sure he would have retched some time ago. 

But he could barely muster the will to continue the laborious task of breathing. Heaving was out of the question- dry or otherwise. 

The roar of a distant fire overtook his hearing, though his eyes couldn't see where it was coming from. The canopy above him swayed in the wind as though nothing disturbing had just taken place below it. He wished he could just be a tree sometimes. 

His vision was darkening despite his attempts to keep his eyes open. Neon colors flashed in his otherwise nonexistent line of sight. He knew what this was. 

A tingling sensation tugged his slipping consciousness. It stinged a little, but otherwise it was soothing the angry burning ravaging his leg. He thought he recognised the sensation, but then again he couldn't really think very straight to begin with in the moment. He almost passed it off as some sicko bug crawling into his wound until a hand shook his shoulder firmly. His eyes blinked, trying to focus on whoever it was that had come to his rescue. At least, he hoped they were here to help him. 

It would kinda suck if they were here to finish him off-- or, well, maybe that would be welcomed at this point. 

But, no, the tingling sensation returned tenfold this time. He could physically feel flesh being constructed to fill out the tunnel the lance of magic had caused. Muscle sewing back together. His back ached a lot less now.

Despite, his vision had yet to come back. He was still extremely dizzy and was pretty sure even if he could see, he wouldn't be able to make anything out from all of the whirling the world felt like it was sending him through. Even without moving he thought he could feel the ground below him tilt this way and that. Was he being carried? He was too numb to tell. 

No. The cold of the blood soaked ground below him was still peeking through his mostly numbed flesh. His whole side felt like it was on fire and covered in a horrible ooze. 

This was definitely _not_ the kind of sticky he enjoyed being. 

As the white magic- he finally identified the obvious healing of his wounds- dragged him back from the brink, he started to feel his body wake up a bit more. It had grown so heavy before from a lack of energy and blood. Weird how the less fluids you have in you the heavier you feel.

His head was being lifted a little. He still had no idea who it was that was caring for him. He had to figure it was someone with extensive healing skills like Mercedes, Flayn or even the Professor. Half of his mind cursed himself for likely looking like a half burnt piece of shit, while the other half was glad it wasn't one of his closer friends here to see him like this. Ingrid would never let him hear the end of it, Ashe likely would not be able to hold his hands steady like his savior was able to, and Felix…

Well, Felix would probably be trying to finish him off just for being stupid enough to take on three _Dark Fucking Mages_ all on his own. 

He hoped it was Mercedes. She wouldn't berate him endlessly for his foolishness. She was always straight-forward with him, but she never made him feel worthless. 

And then that idea was immediately dashed when the white magic originated from the opposite side of the person cradling his head. 

Great. There's two people here to see him struggling to not pass out from blood loss. 

So then who in _Fódlan_ was it holding his head and cheek and-

Wait. When had they placed a hand on his face? He could recognize thick leather gloves pressed firmly into his cheekbone up to the tip of his ear. Were they saying something? He thought he could make something out over the deafening ringing in his ears, but it was too watery to piece into anything coherent. 

Except he did notice one thing. 

The person holding him sounded very, very not female. 

Well, shit.

Considering the intimacy of the touch despite the tension in their hands, Sylvain finally concluded with almost certainty who at least one of his rescuers were. 

The last person he wanted to see him like this. 

He started to see holes forming in the darkness before him as color filtered through to his blood deprived corneas. As he suspected, everything looked like it was being tied to the tail of a wyvern as it tussled with its denmates. It made him dizzy once again, and to avoid feeling nausea rise up in his stomach he squeezed his eyes shut. Sylvain barely registered that the white magic had stopped. The wound wasn't bleeding anymore, but he had damn nearly emptied his whole body into the dirt in just a few short minutes. 

Well, he assumed it had only been minutes. You can't tell for sure when you're caught in limbo between life and death and aren't even able to count to the number five without forgetting what the fuck numbers were.

_"....vain…"_

That was definitely someone calling his name. Probably the man closest to him, judging by the raspy depth of his voice. A gentler call confirmed the difference as his healer spoke to the other man. Judging by the healer's tone and the airiness of her words… he identified her as Mercedes. It makes sense she could find him. If she cast a Fortify spell, she could sense the locations of all her allies within range as they were automatically healed. That's probably how they found him. 

He hopes they found his horse first. 

_"....vain…..p….."_

Sylvain attempted to respond, but the words only came out as a weak, voiceless grunt. It was, however, enough to alert his allies that he was indeed conscious and capable of making at least _some_ words out. 

He began to regret informing them this when his body was being moved forcefully by the man at his side. His knees were being grasped, and soon the hand that was below his head moved down to secure his neck. Wind rushed under his sticky back as his body left the ground. The movement hurled his mind into another queasy stupor. It was way too much way too quickly, but he figured if the fight was still going on that he couldn't expect his friends to baby him until he recovered enough to walk. 

Honestly, he was surprised the person carrying him had the strength to do it. Sylvain was built of pure muscle and dumbassery. Both are very, very hefty materials. 

And, well, he knows the guy isn't exactly the tallest out there. 

No. Felix was probably better built that he was- just more compact and slim. 

Yeah, he knew from the specific gait his friend owned that the person carrying him was indeed Felix. Who else would have comforted him the way he had back there? Not even Mercedes would have been so careful. He and Felix had some talking to do once the war was over, sure, but this?

He really didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve _him._

Felix had probably just come back from his own life or death struggles, sporting his own mirad of wounds and bruises. And yet the damn fool had the nerve to not even tremble from exertion as he carried Sylvain to safety. 

Sylvain seriously deserved to die in the forest back there. Especially if he was going to be this much of a burden to his dear friends. To Felix. 

And yet the distinct scent of open air hit his nose and he knew they were out of the woods- had he really been that close to the edge??- and into the field nearby. The wind against his chest felt euphoric after the literal hellscape he just endured. 

Their pace slowed as Felix carried him towards what he could only imagine was the pop up camp they made prior to the battle. Where else would he be taking him?

In a sudden jolt of clarity, Sylvain shot his eyes open to chance looking up at his friend. 

Finally. His vision had mostly stilled and he was able to see the cheek and jaw of his best friend. There was dried blood below where his eye would be if he could see it, and he processed within a few glances that Felix had some grime and gore pasted along his shoulders and neck. He must have really been in the thick of it to get this dirty. 

Felix must have noticed his hitched breath, as he looked down to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but he didn't speak. He likely thought Sylvain still wouldn't be able to hear him. He was likely right. 

After making sure Felix was okay and was actually Felix and not some random footsoldier with a similar walking pattern and a weird habit of platonic intimate touches, Sylvain let his eyelids slip closed again. His side still hurt like a bitch and he was pretty sure he had pulled a muscle in his arm from that stupid stunt he pulled with the spinning move, but he was alive. He would probably live through the night too, if the sharpness of his textile senses was any indicator of his slowly recovering health. 

The adrenaline from everything had finally left him, and within moments he was contently passed out in the arms of his closest friend. 

  
  
  


When he next opened his eyes, he recognised the colors of the tarp above him. He was in his own tent, a thin blanket draped over his lower half while the top half was covered in stiff bandages. They were clean, he noted as he shifted his head enough to verify from the corner of his eye, but they were a little stale. He'd likely be due for a new set soon. 

He let his neck relax again as his eyes wandered aimlessly over the blank canvas before him. His tent would sway every now and then from the wind, but otherwise nothing was actually up there to catch his attention. So, he turned his gaze inward and tried to piece together what had happened. 

The tail end of the fight came back in bits and pieces. He remembered being impaled by a Dark Spikes spell and being found by two people. Mercedes and Felix, he recalls after a few moments of pondering. He thought he remembered being carried, but he wasn't quite sure if he had dreamt that or not. Was it Felix that brought him here? How embarrassing. They must have looked like a real joke, with how much taller and broader Sylvain is in comparison to the swordsman. His admiration for his dear friend grew despite the grim hilarity of what it must have looked like. 

Then again, Sylvain probably didn't look like much of a joke at the time. He doubted anyone laughed. 

Hopefully. 

He tested out all of his limbs, gauging which ones had taken more damage than the others. Of course, his right leg was still pretty sore and every time he attempted to try wiggling it, a jolt of pain stopped him in his tracks. 

Well. At least he still had it.

He was able to raise his left hand above his head to examine it. It was actually pretty well washed, only faint traces of dried blood remained at the backs of his outer fingernails. The pads of his fingers were still rubbed raw from climbing a tree half naked, but otherwise it was fine. It was his torso that took the worst beating, after all. 

Just as his hand hit his roll again, his tent flap opened and in walked Mercedes. If she was surprised to see him awake, she hid it well. 

"Good evening, Sylvain. I'm glad to see you've returned to us."

Sylvain nodded minutely, eyes wearily following her as she began unpacking her medical supplies into her lap once she had knelt down. He watched with an almost detached mindset as she peeled off faintly browned bandages and replaced them with brand new ones. It took her a while, and he struggled to aid her in getting his back reapplied, but she ended up completing the task before he could find something stupid to say to ease the tension in the air. 

She gathered the soiled wrappings and concealed them in a rugged cheesecloth for disposal. Her eyes skimmed his body, double checking her work. She must have been satisfied, because the next moment she was placing the sheets back over his waist and standing back to her feet. 

"I'll let the others know you woken up. They've been worried, you know."

Sylvain knew if it had been anyone else, her tone would have been a lot harsher and likely implanted with a barb about his recklessness. He was really appreciative he didn't have to suffer that headache quite yet. 

"Sorry, Mercedes. I fucked up."

"Mm."

She lowered her eyebrows a fraction, eyes pondering something. But just like that, she was out of the tent, off to likely continue her rounds. 

He had maybe one minute before he was disturbed again. Would a one minute nap be worth it? Probably not. Maybe he should come up with a story as to why he took on three dark mages on his own without his horse. 

They were originally after Dimitri? No, Dimitri was always pretty well guarded, if not by a battalion then by Dedue himself. Plus, Dimitri could surprisingly take magical attacks just about as well as he could. That...isn't much of a feat, but it's better than someone like Dedue or Ashe could handle.

Maybe they had targeted Byleth? 

No, Byleth would not be caught off guard by anything. Like. Ever. 

He didn't have time to come up with another excuse, as the tent flap was pushed open with haste to disrupt his scheming. 

In walked Felix, looking much cleaner than he had appeared when Sylvain last saw him. 

Oh, that's right. Felix definitely had carried him. He recalled with sickening clarity the chunk of intestines that was clinging to the shorter man's collarbone in his most recent memory of him. 

Wonderful. 

Sylvain snapped from his memory when Felix sat down next to his shoulder. He looked pretty pissed, which he had every reason to be, but he wasn't yelling at him yet. 

Sylvain wasn't sure he liked that more than ranting Felix. 

"....Hey Fe."

"Shut up."

He tried not to wince from the verbal bite, but his flinch must have been visible enough for Felix to see. The other man wilted a little, his eyes losing some of their fire. Despite his clean hair and skin and gracefully blood free clothes, Felix looked haggard. His eyelids were red from sleep deprivation and his lips were pretty chapped. The fool probably forgot to drink much of anything since they returned to camp. 

"We only found you thanks to your horse running into the fray without you. We found your battalion soon after, so Mercedes and I split from everyone else to find you. The burning forest was a pretty dead giveaway. You're damn lucky we just had stragglers left to rout."

His voice was void of its usual careful venom. His hand had begun thumbing the ends of Sylvain's hair. From his expression, he looked to be a million miles away. 

"Feli-"

"I said _shut up._ "

Sylvain snapped his mouth closed, lips forming into a frustrated pout. He was _trying_ to apologise. Isn't that what Felix wanted to hear??

"You should be dead. The whole damn forest was being burned down around you. Your intestines were literally _drying out_ next to you. You shouldn't have a single drop of blood in that stupid body of yours."

Felix's shoulders were quivering minutely as he attempted to hold himself together. He had his head bowed and most of his face was concealed by his bangs. The pained scowl was still visible on his lips though. 

"How the _fuck_ did you survive??"

Sylvain didn't have an answer. He wasn't even sure if Felix wanted one. Nothing he could say would really make it better. Knowing him, he'd probably piss Felix off so bad he'd punch him. Maybe worse. 

And yet, his big stupid mouth moved without his mental permission. 

"I had a promise to keep."

Felix pulled his hand away from Sylvain's head, and instead shifted his opposite one to press down onto Sylvain's closest wrist. A strangled sob escaped him. 

Sylvain felt like utter shit right now. 

He took in a breath to try and fix the damage, to say something- anything- but Felix tightened his grip on him to stop him. 

The swordsman tilted his head back up, eyebrows pinched painfully into a half scowl as tears rolled fat and thick down his cheeks. His lips were quivering a little, but they were kept pressed into a tight line. His cheeks were red, as were his nose and eyes, and yet Sylvain couldn't help the softening of his heart at the sight. Felix never cried these days. And yet here he was, vibrating with tearful frustration right next to him. 

Guilt followed that wave of affection rather swiftly. 

"I'm so-"

"No. You're not."

Felix once again interrupted him, his grip on Sylvain's wrist likely tight enough to bruise later. Neither man cared. 

His friend finally caved and let a few hiccups and sniffs out without much filter. Keeping it all in at this point was probably impossible, all things considered. Sylvain moved his entrapped palm a little, trying to pull Felix's hand up towards his own. After a few failed attempts, Felix reluctantly released his grip and shifted it down to thread their fingers together. 

Sylvain squeezed his hand as much as his body allowed him. It wasn't much, but it was there. Felix felt it, if the sudden hitch in his labored breathing was anything to go off of. He raised his sleeve up to his face so he could let a bit of it out into the thick fabric. Sylvain averted his eyes respectfully as Felix sobbed for a few short minutes. He could only imagine how gutted he would feel if their positions were switched. 

Goddess knows Sylvain would find any and every reason to blame himself for it all. 

"...It wasn't your fault."

Felix sniffed, shaking his head as he lowered his arm back down. He still refused to make eye contact. 

"Damn r-right it wasn't. It was entirely yours."

Sylvain knows he should take everything Felix says with a grain of salt, but that stung pretty badly. He didn't have much time to stew in it though. 

"But… I should've noticed sooner."

The lancer looked back up to his friend, eyebrows stitched together with confusion. 

"Felix, I was separated long before I was attacked. There was no way to know I wasn't just caught up somewhere else you couldn't see."

His companion crammed back his still raw emotions, breath steadying with each forced intake of air. He finally locked gazes with Sylvain. 

"It's never been like you to stray very far from me. Don't think I haven't noticed."

To be fair, Sylvain hadn't really noticed either until he mentioned it. Looking back on their previous battles, he always recalled sticking close to Felix and watching his six. Perhaps he did have a habit of gravitating towards him.

"You really are the biggest fool in all of Fódlan."

Sylvain choked out a chuckle, wincing a little as the movement stretched his still healing skin on his back. 

"Yeah. Sorry for dragging you into all this, Fe."

Felix attempted to glare down at his friend, but it was too easily overtaken with a strange look. 

"I'm partly to blame for allowing myself to get dragged, you know."

Yeah. Sylvain couldn't help but agree. If Felix truly felt what he meant, he would have ditched Sylvain a long time ago to pair up with someone actually halfway competent. 

But no. He always stayed by Sylvain's side for better or worse. One could say he was just enabling Sylvain's self destructive tendencies, but both of them knew it was deeper than that. 

Felix's free hand brushed along Sylvain's jaw gingerly. He was staring down at their joined hands. 

"Be more careful next time. A tall order for someone like you, I know."

He flicked his eyes over towards Sylvain's for a second before returning them to their original post. 

"But if not for your sorry ass, do it for my sorry ass."

Sylvain huffed something of a laugh and squeezed his hand. 

"Your ass is definitely _not_ sorry, Fe."

And there was the flick to the forehead he had been expecting since the swordsman had walked in. And, yet, the little shit had the audacity to laugh at the awful joke with that gorgeous half smile and with those eyes that looked so tired and yet so full of life at the same time. Even after pulling a probable all nighter and crying for ten minutes straight, he looked just as beautiful as ever. Maybe even more so than usual with the amount of thinly veiled fondness that had snuck its way into his earthen eyes. 

Sylvain's expression must have softened drastically, because the moment was over and Felix was now flushing with irritation. 

"Don't look at me like that right after I saw your fucking intestines crawl back up into your stomach. You're insatiable."

The future Margrave laughed openly at that, ignoring the return of his body screaming its protests. He knew despite the scowl on his face that Felix was only so prickly now because of how worried he had been earlier. His relief was evident in his careful touch and openness to showing small signs of affection, like the hand that was now smoothing Sylvain's unruly hair down. 

He leaned into the touch and was absolutely delighted when Felix did not pull away. He did the opposite, leaning down a little so his whole face was visible to the man below him. His frown had melted back to a neutral look, the rest of his visage relaxed. He watched his hand's musings for a few seconds before turning his gaze toward Sylvain's.

The two stared at each other for a while, and Sylvain felt just about ready to combust from the soft look his dear friend was giving him. He knew his cheeks must be pretty red by now, but in this slim window of intimacy, he decided he didn't mind so long as Felix didn't mind. 

Taking into account how far the other had leaned over, he felt it was safe to assume his visible levels of flusteredness were being taken well for once. Felix brushed his dry lips across Sylvain's forehead for a few seconds. His hand rested against the knight's ear and the other squeezed its grip. When he pulled away, he looked a bit more like himself than before, but his air of fondness had not left entirely. 

"You need more rest. I'll come back later to help with your bandages."

Sylvain made a protesting noise as Felix withdrew his touch to begin standing. It was mostly ignored, so instead he voiced his opinion on the matter with actual words. 

"Can't you stay in here with me?"

Felix gave him a suspicious look from over his shoulder. 

"Please? I promise I'll sleep."

The question went unanswered for a few moments as Felix weighed his options. Begrudgingly, he submitted to the request and settled back down next to Sylvain- this time laying down on his side with an arm folded under his head for a cushion. He was laying in the grass beneath the tent, sure, but he wore long sleeves and pants so Sylvain didn't worry too much over him getting all itchy from the weeds when he next stood up. 

The swordsman reattached their hands, having to shift down a little for them to both comfortably reach. He was now at about shoulder level, but that didn't stop him from casting a glance up to the other man. 

Sylvain felt his heart do a cartwheel when Felix looked at him like that. Exasperated, slightly annoyed, but most of all frustratingly overcome with affection. He was very rarely rewarded with these sights. He treasured them dearly. 

As he reluctantly closed his eyes to let his body rest, he took note of how Felix moved a little onto his bedroll to close the distance between them. He made damn sure not to visibly react to it, lest he chase him off.

So, he focused on his breathing and slowly drifted off, guided to rest by the warmth pressed into his hand and the gentle breath ghosting his shoulder. 

Before he finally succumbed to slumber, he sent a quick _'thanks dude'_ to the goddess for letting him live long enough to experience this. He would normally never believe he deserves any of this, but Felix's quiet affirmations and hidden affections could eventually do a pretty good job of convincing him otherwise. 

Maybe he'd finally welcome a change of mind after all these years.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I decided to go back and draw a quick messy sketch for this piece. I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
